


Movement

by TheLorax



Series: From Eden [4]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-21 21:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLorax/pseuds/TheLorax
Summary: She was graceless and wild, a force that blew through his life and moved him in ways he never thought possible.A three part Sess/Rin story.
Relationships: Rin/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha)
Series: From Eden [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/562388
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Movement

**Author's Note:**

> A three part story. Inspired by Hozier’s Movement, an amazing song that’s definitely worth a listen.

**Movement**

_When you move, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free_

**First Movement:**

**The Beginning**

She had always been a graceless child.

Back then his time was spent fixated on what lay ahead – his eyes and mind focused on surpassing the feats of his father – but, every so often, he would look back and there she was – the little wild-child, human girl with flowers in her hair and a smattering of scratches and scrapes accented in hues of blues and purples. She would smile, that fierce broken grin, and show him her newest mark, displaying the countless little injuries as badges of honor, symbols that proved nothing could stop her questing heart.

And nothing ever did. A new cut would never dissuade her from attempting to jump river rocks or from chasing insects through the underbrush, and Jaken’s words of reproach were never quite loud enough to halt her wandering feet.

As time passed, he began to associate the marks on her skin with something deeper. They grew from mere blemishes to become a sign of her strength, of an enduring spirit that was lacking in most humans, but one that she held in spades. Time would heal her, the cuts would close and the bruises would fade, but each action that caused them would remain with him, an indelible wound in the shape of her name that carved deeper and deeper into his soul with every bump and bruise and black and blue.

* * *

When she was twelve, the old priestess who cared for her fell ill and passed, and she returned to him, claiming that village life didn’t suit her. He bade her to do as she wished but couldn’t deny the relief that flooded him at her request. 

He had visited often during her years at the village, and while he had grown accustomed to her longer limbs and the new slenderness of her face, their renewed journeys soon made it apparent that she still had not adjusted to time’s changes. The child was all knees and elbows and as graceful as a newborn foal. She had grown tall, but clumsy, constantly knocking things over and tripping on every rock and twig in her path – and, in the absence of those, her own feet. 

But still, she was undeterred. Each morning she would slip away with the dragon in tow, eyes wide as she stumbled through fields of flowers. And each evening he would find her again, smiling broadly by the campfire in her dingy kimono, her skin stained red and smudged blue. 

Once more, the Demon Lord grew to find comfort in the sight of her scraped knees and bruised legs.

* * *

Her obsession began six months into their travels.

Upon his return to their camp one night he found her missing and the toad pacing in a ditch of his own making. Between wailed apologies, the kappa relayed that the girl had gone to a nearby human village earlier in the day in search of new kimonos and hadn’t been seen since.

The two-headed dragon had remained calm, a good sign considering he always had his senses trained on the girl, but Sesshomaru still left the toad demon with a knot on his head, and unspoken promises of worse repercussions if anything had befallen Rin. 

The village outskirts were nearly deserted, and a quick leap to the rooftops made it even easier to move around undetected. His search led him to the town’s center, to what looked like a festival. Lanterns glowed and large crowds of humans gathered around stands, eating and playing games, at the center of it all, surrounded by the largest cluster of bodies were a group of humans moving to the pulsing beat of large drums.

Rin’s scent led him to the crowd, and from a nearby rooftop he spotted her easily - teetering atop an overturned crate at the back of a crowd, arms laden with fabrics and food stuffs, straining to get a look over the heads around her. He nearly sighed and resisted the urge to go steady her.

His eyes hadn’t been on her long before the girl stilled, her body tensing in a way that had him scenting the air for a threat, then she turned to look behind her - a small frown creasing her brow. She scanned the crowd, then, as if realizing something beyond his comprehension, she looked to the rooftops, directly into his eyes and smiled that full-face smile of hers.

The move was surprising, but not unexpected. Even if he could never figure out how the girl always sensed his presence, it just seemed _right_ for her to be able to do so. For a moment, the corners of his own lips twitched up. It was one of the many mysteries of Rin, and it was one of the many reasons she had grown dear to him. Then she turned, wobbled and tipped off the box, landing in a graceless heap on the ground with her provisions around her.

Sesshomaru sighed and his smile grew ever so slightly. 

———

That night, he was pulled from his light sleep by the sound of her creeping from their camp. He assumed she had gone to relieve herself, but the minutes ticked by and a familiar tingle of something he would never call worry drew him to his feet.

He found her frowning at her feet in a clearing not far from camp.

She appeared unhurt, but it was rare to see the child upset, so he kept himself to the shadows and observed while he could, knowing full well it was only a matter of time before her unknowable sense would discover him.

A moment later she looked up, cast her eyes to the pale light of the moon and released a long exhale. She began to move; slowly, carefully, she put one foot in front of the other, raising and lowering her arms to a beat only she could hear. She circled the clearing, speeding up and slowing down, twisting and turning her feet and arcing her arms. At times her moves jerked awkwardly, one foot would slide too far, or she would lose herself during a spin, forcing her to stick out an arm in balance. It was almost like the dance he had seen the humans doing, but faster, more spirited and different on a level he couldn’t quite understand. It was something _more_ and though it was unpolished, he couldn’t look away.

Her eyes closed and she began humming a made up tune. The movements of her feet quickened and in a moment that stopped his breath, she leapt from the ground, arching her back and raising one arm over her head while the other extended to the side. She twisted and came to land, but something went wrong, and the girl stumbled before crashing to her hands and knees, panting heavily and glowing with perspiration in the moonlit clearing. 

She remained that way for a breath, clenching her eyes shut and gripping the grass until her knuckles were white before she leaned back and settled onto her knees.

“I’ll never be as good as them, huh?” Her words were soft, but Sesshomaru knew they were directed at him. He moved from his hiding spot and into the clearing, though he deeply doubted that his presence had ever been hidden from the girl to begin with.

“Like the dancers,” she elaborated. He hummed his reply. 

“Their dance in the village was nice, but when I tried it the moves were just too…” she scrunched her nose and frowned, searching for some word that escaped her mind, instead she settled for moving her arms in a clunky, rigid mimicry of the dancers’ movements.

“Stiff.” Sesshomaru supplied. She nodded and dropped her arms.

“Yes, it was all so stiff, so I thought of what Lady Sango showed me, and of you and the way you move when you’re fighting.” A light blush dusted her cheeks. “Watching you battle a demon is better than watching any dance, I think. So, I tried to move like you do, but I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

Sesshomaru frowned and moved to stand before the girl, extending a hand to help her from the ground. She brought her eyes to his and smiled softly but shook her head and held up her palms for him to see, “This isn’t my first fall,” the skin was raw and torn in place, and smeared red in others. Sesshomaru’s mouth pursed into a thin line, then he reached down and wrapped his long fingers around her wrist before gently tugging her up. 

He held her hand and turned it this way and that before grabbing her other wrist to inspect the injuries there as well. Over the years, Rin had grown used to this treatment and lifted her gaze to the moon, relishing in the warmth of his gentle fingers on her hand.

“I found their dance to be stiff as well,” he murmured, and she giggled. A moment passed and, finding her injuries to be shallow, he released her hands and brought his palm to cup her cheek. Rin sighed softly and leaned into the warmth.

The gesture had become a sacred one to them over the years, something personal that was meant to show the affection that the demon could never vocalize. As a child, Rin had always found it comforting – his hand was so large and warm and it always filled her with an overwhelming feeling of safety each time he laid it on her cheek, but as she aged the act grew to mean more to her. The feeling of his skin on hers caused a rush of heat to her face and brought an unfamiliar quickness to her heart. Looking up into his golden eyes that night, she wondered if his feelings regarding the gesture had changed as well.

His thumb moved against her skin as he broke the silence that had settled between them, “This Sesshomaru has learned that there is very little that you are incapable of, Rin.”

Soon, this would become routine to them, she would leave the camp for a few hours to practice her self-taught dance, and he would follow in the shadows, keeping guard. Then, when she exhausted herself he would appear to check whatever new scrape or bruise she had gained that night, each one a new mark on his soul, reminding him in a small way of the resilience and strength of the little human girl.

But on that first night, the mark that was carved into him wasn’t from the scrapes on her hands or the bruises on her knees, but from the brilliance of the smile she sent his way. 


End file.
